Fix Me or Break Me, It's Your Choice
by seaofswans
Summary: 3 times Stiles couldn't hold on, in front of Lydia. 3 times he couldn't fight the pain anymore, in front of Lydia. 3 times he couldn't let go of the chaos the nogitsune had left for him, in front of Lydia. Stydia, post! nogitsune. Lot's of angst and fluff.


_3 times Stiles couldn't hold on, in front of Lydia._

 _3 times he couldn't fight the pain anymore, in front of Lydia._

 _3 times he couldn't let go of the chaos the nogitsune had left for him, in front of Lydia._

 _The first time it happened, Stiles and Lydia were walking down the school hallway._

They were late to class, as usual. Everything had been so normal, no strange supernatural occurrences, they just wanted to check up on some things to make sure they weren't missing any signs.

Suddenly Stiles stumbles, crashing into one of the lockers.

" _Stiles?"_ Lydia cries, running to his side.

"I-I'm okay." he murmurs, out of breath. "I just need a minute."

She cradles his face in her palms, sitting cross legged while he sits on his knees, his eyes cast toward the ground. His hands are resting on his thighs, shaking, and he's panting profusely.

"I'm sorry." he manages "It usually only takes a minute."

Lydia begins to wonder how many times this has happened to him, how many times he's been alone, and she feels her heart shatter into smithereens. He's always been so kind to her, let's her lean on him in her time of need, never asking for anything in return. That's just the type of person Stiles is.

"Why are you apologizing?" she asks, her voice a soothing tone.

"I don't know."

"Stiles, look at me."

He shakes his head, his breath comes out in ragged pants.

" _Please, Stiles."_

He finally obeys, he'll do anything she asks of him, lifting his head slightly. For the first time, Lydia notices the dark circles under his eyes. She thought they disappeared when the nogitsune was defeated.

" _Shh, it's okay, you're okay."_

He slumps against her, releasing some of the tension in his body, releasing some of the pain. She hugs him now, bringing her hands around his back while, rubbing up and down in a soothing way. His cheek rests against her shoulder. He's afraid, so afraid, that she'll decided her time is better spent elsewhere. He grips onto the fabric of her blouse, rubbing it between his fingers like a security blanket. She feels a small smile play across her lips. In many ways, she _is_ his security blanket, his anchor. She has so much power over him, and she hates it.

Around her, he was like a glass figurine. _So_ fragile that if you drop it... it'll break, and can never be fixed.

Lydia knows that he's close to the ground.

But he's also so strong. Would take _any_ pain for her, any suffering just for her benefit. He never pushes her, never crosses a line. It's always _her_ choice.

Lydia has no idea how long they've been sitting there, 10 minutes, an hour? She doesn't care, it just feels _so_ right.

When Stiles finally moves away, she feels a loss. Not of body heat, or touch, but an emotional loss, like someone you love being ripped away.

He takes a shaky breath.

"Thank you." he says sincerely.

She smiles at him.

"For what?"

He shrugs.

"You know, for being there, for being _you_."

Lydia can literally feel her heart drop into her stomach. She chuckles lightly... _nervously._ She doesn't deserve him or anything he says to her, she knows that. Really, she should be the one thanking him. But she can't, she's too weak, she can't _tell_ him.

They stare at each other for a while, the longing evident on each of their faces.

"We, uh, should probably get to class." she finally speaks.

He nods in agreement.

Stiles stands and offers his hand out for Lydia. She takes it, giving him a tight lipped smile, and he helps pull her off the ground.

 _Like he always does._

 _In more ways than one._

 _The second time it happened, Stiles and Lydia were in his room._

They had agreed upon a study session, careful not to call it a study date, knowing the label would cause unwanted chaos. So they met at Stiles' house and planned to study for their economics quiz.

Stiles sat at his desk chair, while Lydia sat on the floor, her papers spread out all over the place. Stiles was reading out terms off his computer, testing Lydia's memory, when he fell out of his chair and hit the ground with a loud clunk.

This time, Lydia knows what's happening, knows what to expect. She rushes over to Stiles and helps him onto his bed. She lays him out, sitting crossed legged behind him once more, and lays his head on her lap. She smooths the palm of her hand over his cheek, the other stroking his hair, trying to calm him.

He's shaking, worse than before, and breathing hard. Most would think this is a panic attack, but Lydia knows better. She knows this is worse, much, much worse. She murmurs gentle words, her breath whispering across his forehead, and he begins to relax just a little.

He's still shaking, but less now, and his breathing is slower, almost normal. His eyes are clenched tight and he reaches up to tangle his fingers with the ones that rest on his cheek. Lydia gladly accepts his gesture, her grip tightening slightly.

Somehow, _something_ goes wrong. His hold on her hand turns to a death grip, and he starts to shake again. Lydia's scared now, her eyes widening as he pulls their hands to his chest, placing it right over his heart. His breathing is shallow, and she can _feel_ his heart beating rapidly. His other hand is grasping at his sheets, clutching them so hard his knuckles turn white.

Lydia can feel a scream bubbling up in her chest, but she holds it back in fear of making things worse. He's thrashing now, his arm flailing while the other hand still grips hers tightly. His head flies back and forth, legs bucking up. She frees her hand from his grasp and places both on his shoulders, trying to hold him down.

Images flood her mind of when she held him underwater, killing him. She remembers his body going limp, when he stopped fighting to live, and she begins to shake as well. Tears fill the rims of her eyes as she watches the strongest boy she's ever know fight for his life once again, and she's _so_ afraid that he'll give up like he did last time. Lydia can see his struggle, it's all over his face. He's stopped breathing now, but he's still thrashing, and she doesn't know what that means. She hates seeing him like this, wishes she didn't have to, _prays_ for it to stop. The tears fall down her cheeks now, realizing she may not be enough to bring him back. She was never enough, and she ponders, for a moment, if that's how Stiles's perceives himself.

Not just when it comes to her but, with his friends, his life. He's not supernatural, he doesn't have super strength or the ability to hear things, he's human. Lydia wonders if he feels useless, or thinks he's more of a nuisance than a help. She wonders if that's why the nogitsune chose to inhabit him instead of someone else. She wonders if _that's_ why he may be giving up in his fight for life, if he feels that they'll just be better off without him. She wonders if that's why he apologized to her the first time this happened in the school, because he thought he was being an inconvenience for her.

Lydia lets out a sob.

After all, she had never given him any reason to believe that he was more than someone for her to just babysit.

Stiles' is still jerking, and instead of trying to hold him down, Lydia tries a different approach. She puts her hands on his cheeks again, and takes a deep breath,

" _Stiles?"_ she speaks, her voice coming out shaky.

"Stiles, if you can hear me, please stop."

He doesn't stop.

Panic is starting to overcome her, but she tries again.

"Stiles, please keep fighting, okay? We need you, _I need you_. Please come back to me."

He listens this time. His body finally stills and his breathing returns. Lydia lets out a, shaky, sigh of relief.

His eyes open slowly and he's met with the most beautiful pair he's ever seen in his life. His gaze shifts lower and he's greeted by a smile that fills him with warmth.

" _Lydia?_ " his voice comes out raspy

"Yeah." she whispers back, nodding her head.

Stiles lets out a sigh and closes his eyes once more, letting his head fall back onto her lap. Her fingers disappear behind his head and they play with the hair at the nape of his neck.

He doesn't thank her this time, doesn't get the chance to, because he falls asleep. Worry is etched across Lydia's face, but she lets him sleep anyway, because she _knows_ he isn't getting any. She continues to play with his hair.

When Stiles wakes, the clock reads _12:17 am_ and, Lydia is gone. There's a note on his night stand, and he begins to read it using the dim light of the moon.

" _I stayed as long as I could. You really scared me, Stiles, and I think you should talk to Deaton. I'll go with you, if you want._

 _-Lydia."_

A sad smile plays across his lips at her kindness, but he doesn't need to see Deaton. He already knows what's wrong with him, he just doesn't want anyone else know either.

 _The third time it happened, it was different. Lydia wasn't with Stiles._

She awoke to the sound of screams, and they begin to mix with her own. She covers her ears and squeezes her eyes shut. When she stops yelling, she can hear the screams. She doesn't just hear the screams, she _recognizes_ them. _Stiles._

She's up and out the door _so_ fast she almost trips over Prada on the way down. " _Damn it!"_ she curses, but doesn't stop. All she can think about is Stiles.

She knows he's not at home, she _feels_ it, but she doesn't know _where_ he is. Lydia gets in her car and _prays_ that she'll drive herself to Stiles without actually knowing where to go. It's happened before, why can't it happen now, right?

The screams don't stop as she's driving through town. ' _Come on, Stiles needs you'_ she thinks to herself. She may not give Stiles what he deserves, but she can give him this. She can be there for him when he needs her the most, just like he's always been there for her. He doesn't ask for her, he's too afraid to push her away, but she _knows_ he needs her right now. That's the beauty about their friendship, or whatever it is, _they just know._

Lydia blows through a red light, but she doesn't care. Hell, she'd pay all the tickets in the world to find Stiles.

Suddenly her car comes to a stop. She looks around, but can't make out much. It's _1:30_ in the morning, and she can hardly see her hand in front of her face. She knows he's here, though. The screams are _so_ loud. She finally sees a sign, and she knows where she is. _The cross country trail._

Lydia swallows hard. She should call Scott, he could help her find Stiles using his scent. She knows there not enough time for that.

She fishes a flashlight out of her glove box and takes a deep breath.

 _Just follow the screams._

Lydia begins to walk the path, calling out for the boy who gave her everything. She's scared, so scared, but she pushes on. Her ears hurt from all the noise, but she knows Stiles is in more pain than she is.

She's getting discouraged, now. All she can think about is how she couldn't find Stiles before, either. She led them to the wrong place. Oh, god, what if she was in the wrong place again. Lydia's almost ready to leave, but she calls for him once last time.

" _Stiles?"_

She hear's a small grunt, and she turns her flashlight in the direction of the sound. She sees him, finally, and her heart _aches_ for him. He's slumped against a tree, his head lolled to the side. She runs toward him.

"Stiles!" she crouches next to him.

"Hey." he murmurs in response.

"How did you get out here?"

"I was sleepwalking. I think. I don't remember."

She slips his arm over her shoulder and helps him stand. He's weak, and she can tell he's trying to keep his weight from crushing her.

They begin to walk, the silence over taking both of them. She doesn't hear the screams anymore, and she's _so_ thankful for that. Now, she can focus all her attention on Stiles.

As they go on, his strength decreases. He's starting to lean on her more, but he's still holding back. His body is tense, and Lydia wishes he would _just_ be more selfish sometimes. Even broken down and in pain, he's worrying about her. He feels guilty, like he's asking too much of her.

He starts to slow down.

" _Wait, wait, wait."_ he manages to say, before he crumples to the ground.

" _Stiles!"_ he can hear the panic in her voice as she calls to him.

He lays on his back, his hands folded on his stomach. He knows she's talking to him. He can make out her voice, but her words are jumbled and he can't understand what she's saying. His eyes haven't adjusted to the dark, so he can't see her either. The only thing he's left with reassurance that she's there, because he knows her presence.

Stiles can feel her hands on top of his, feel how shaky they are. He hears his name, and lets out a sound, trying to tell her he's still with her. It comes out as a moan of pain, which just worries Lydia more, and he feels guilty once again. She shouldn't have to be dealing with this, with him. She shouldn't have to waste her energy _constantly_ worrying about him.

"I'm sorry." he finally rasps out. "I just need a moment."

Lydia shuts her eyes. She's _so_ relieved he's okay, but so _ashamed_ that she makes him feel like he needs to apologize.

"Stop apologizing, Stiles." she half laughs, half cries.

"Okay, I'm sorry." a small smile tugs at his lips, and Lydia can't help but be thankful for his humor in such a serious moment. It takes some of the pain away.

He always makes her laugh, he's always the one who can make her smile. When Allison would ask her why she's so giddy, Lydia would reply "no reason," but that reason was Stiles.

Pain shoots her in the heart like a dagger. Allison. The hurt brings her back to the realness of the moment, and she watches Stiles. If he dies, too, she would literally go out of her fucking mind.

Stiles notices the upset look on her face.

"What's wrong?"

She looks at him, her lips plump and withering.

"Don't die, please, Stiles. Don't leave me."

Her confession shocks him. Never before had Lydia let that type emotion show. She has never been so vulnerable when it came to him. Sure, he'd seen her cry. She _always_ looked beautiful when she cried, but watching her here was different. She was crying for _him_ , and she's never looked more beautiful than she did in this moment. Her hair is in messy bun, with strawberry blonde locks framing her face. Her lips are puffed out and her eyes are wide, and she doesn't have any makeup on. She embodied a goddess of natural beauty.

Lydia notices him staring at her, memorizing every feature of her face. She wonders what's going on in that head of his.

" _What?"_ she finally asks, his starring starting to freak her out now.

She could tell she had interrupted some thought process he was having.

"Nothing, I-I just don't think I've ever seen anything as beautiful as you look right now."

Lydia's stunned.. Absolutely stunned. She hadn't been expecting that. She swallows hard and presses the longing she feels for him down.

" _Thank you."_

Stiles just nods.

" _And, uh, I promise I'll try my very hardest not to die."_

Lydia just nods.

They finally make it back to her car around _2:15._ She helps Stiles into the front seat and she blasts the heat. The temperature reads 36 degrees, and she could see Stiles shivering. He was only in a t shirt and sweatpants, and neither one had any idea how long he'd been out there.

They sit in silence as she drives. They have _so_ many things to talk about, but _so_ many things they can't say.

They finally reach the Stilinski household, and Lydia pulls up in the driveway.

"Do you need help getting to your room?" she asks, softly.

"Yeah, uh, probably." he replies nervously

Before she gets out of the car she hears Stiles curse under his breath.

" _What's wrong?"_

"I, uh, guess sleeping walking me forgot to bring a key, and my dad is still at the station, you know, working the night shift so I have no way to get in." He bangs his head against the window in frustration.

" _Oh."_

"You can just drop me off at the sheriff's station, if it's not too much trouble." he continues. "My dad's shift ends at _6:30_ , I can just hang out there till then."

"Stiles, it's only _2:30_ right now. You'd have to wait there for 4 hours. You'd get no sleep, and we have school tomorrow. Not to mention you're in your pajamas."

Stiles looks embarrassed.

"Look, it's not a big deal. I don't get much sleep anyways."

Lydia looks at him, but he's not looking at her. He's staring out the window. She tentatively places a hand on his shoulder, startling him. He looks at her, and for the second time that week she gets a good look at him.

He's so tired, he's struggling, that much is obvious. What's not as obvious is how much pain he's _truly_ in. Lydia wouldn't have seen it if it wasn't the middle of the night and Stiles wasn't so exhausted. He masks it so well, usually, that even his closest friends cannot see him struggling.

But Lydia is different. She can see, she knows all too well about masks. With Stiles, she doesn't have to be someone else, that's what scares her. With the other guys, Jackson, Aiden, all the guys she randomly sleeps with, she doesn't have to be vulnerable. With Stiles, she has no choice. _That's_ what scares her the most because, if it doesn't work out, it'll hurt like _hell._ It'll hurt _so fucking bad._ With the other guys, it hurts but, she eventually gets over it. Lydia knows that with Stiles, it'll completely and utterly wreck her. _That's_ why they're only friends. She's afraid of losing him, afraid of hurting him, and herself.

"Stiles, you need to sleep, okay? This isn't healthy. I'm gonna take you back to my house, and you're gonna sleep there. My mom isn't home, so you don't have to worry about all the judgy comments or all the strange vibes. _Okay?_ "

He nods in agreement.

" _Okay."_

She gives him one last worried glance, then turns the engine on.

They sit in silence, once again, as they drive to her house.

xxxxxxxx

Lydia's hand is wrapped tightly in Stiles as she pulls him through the front door. She shushes prada, the small dog going ballistic at the new visitor.

"Shh, Prada, you're gonna wake up the neighbors!" she hisses.

The dog run off into the living room. Lydia lets out a sigh, and pulls Stiles into her kitchen.

Stiles leans against the counter, his hand behind his back gripping onto the surface, his body positioned at a slight angle. He observes the strawberry blonde scurrying around her kitchen, pulling things from the fridge and the cabinets.

"What are you doing?" he finally asks, after a minute has passed of Lydia running around in circles.

He watches as she puts two mugs in the microwave, then grabs a small medication bottle off the counter, adjacent from him, and brings it over.

"This is Melatonin, it's a medication that helps you fall asleep. I figured you needed a little help, and it's not prescription so you can take it." Lydia hands him the bottle. "It's 10mm," she continues, "so split it in half. My mom likes to take a lot on the nights that she goes out with friends. I also put some milk in the microwave, because there's been studies that show warm milk with honey help you fall asleep faster. I grabbed a lighter, there are some lavender scented candles in my room. Lavender helps relax the mind."

Lydia watches as Stiles forms an 'O' shape with his mouth.

" _Wow_ , you really go all out for your guests."

She shrugs in reply.

The microwave beeps, signaling their milk is done heating. Lydia makes her way over to the appliance and pulls the mugs out.

"Stiles, can you get the honey out of the cabinet on your left?"

"Yeah, sure thing."

Lydia tries to stifle a laugh, but fails, as she watches Stiles leap up and down to reach the honey, which is on the top shelf. He turns and smiles at her, hiding his own internment of seeing her smile.

Stiles loves the fact that _he_ was the one who could make Lydia Martin smile.

"If you think it's so funny, why don't you try and come get it?" he teases her.

"I'm shorter than you!"

"Than why is it so damn high anyway?"

"Honey was always one of my favorite things. When I was on a diet, I needed to stop eating it, and the only way was if I couldn't get to it!" she laughs.

"Well, why is it still up there if you're not on a diet anymore?"

"Because I still can't get it down!"

Lydia can see Stiles holding back a laugh.

"Hey, I'm the one who was laughing at you!" she challenges him with a smile.

"Guess the tables have turned."

She lets out a grunt of frustration and laughter

"Just get me the damn honey, Stiles. The milk is getting cold."

"Yes, Queen Lydia." he says with a bow, and then turns back to the cabinet.

Lydia scoffs, a happy scoff, and throws an orange at him, hitting him square in the back.

"Hey!" he laughs, and races toward her.

Lydia squeals, and runs the other way, her messy bun flopping all over the place. Her arms are to her chest as she runs, a giant smile plastered across her face. She feels an orange hit the back of her leg, and she squeaks in surprise. She turns around, her hair all over the place now, and sees a smile mirroring her own on Stiles' face.

This is _definitely_ not what she thought she would be doing on a Wednesday night at three in the morning.

Reality hits her like a brick. This _isn't_ what she would be doing on a Wednesday night, this isn't what she _should_ be doing. She _should_ be sleeping, preparing for the next supernatural event to come.

Maybe this is something a normal teenager would be doing, but not her or Stiles. She _isn't_ normal, far from it, and her life isn't either. Her _best_ friend just _died._ Her ex-boyfriend, or fuck buddy, whatever they were, just died too. They because a sword was pushed _through_ their bodies by some fucking Ninja dude with a scary mask. _All_ her friends are werewolves, or some kind of freak creature, just like her. And the boy she has a crush on? He's recovering from having a Japanese demon spirit _posses_ his body and he's practically _dying_ from the side effects. Stiles is standing _right_ in front of her, and instead of trying to figure out what's wrong with him, they're throwing oranges at each other like a couple of teenagers who don't have a worry in the world.

Stiles watches as realization spreads over her face. It steals the most beautiful smile, he's ever seen, from the world. It brings him down right alongside of her.

Lydia clears her throat.

"I'll just reheat the milk. Try and get the honey down."

" _Okay."_

xxxxxxxxxxxxxx

They finally head up to Lydia's room, mugs in hand, with Prada on their heels.

Her room is different than the last time he saw it. The walls are a darker shade of pink, and there's unfamiliar decorations hanging. He watches as she lights the candles that came up in their conversation earlier, and the air is filled with the most delightful scent.

Lydia speaks suddenly, startling Stiles.

"Did you text your dad that you're staying here. I don't want him to worry, you know."

"No, yeah, that makes sense. I don't have my phone though."

"Here, use mine."

She hands him the phone and begins to make her bed.

Stiles turns the phone on and is hit with an enormous amount of pain. Her lock screen is a picture of her and Allison, and Stiles has to hold back tears. It is _his_ fault that Allison, and Aiden, were dead. His friends always tried to convince him otherwise, saying things like it wasn't really him or it was the nogitsune. But Stiles knew the truth. He knew what they all _really_ thought. If he could've been stronger, if he could've fought the nogitsune, than Allison and Aiden would still be alive.

Stiles wished they knew how hard he fought, how hard he's _still_ fighting. But his fight isn't enough, _he's_ never enough.

All that pain the nogitsune took and feed off, it's _still_ there. It didn't leave his body when the demon died, it stayed, and it's slowly killing him.

" _Stiles?"_

He's shaken from his thoughts. Stiles realizes he's still looking at Lydia's lock screen, but he finds his hands are being held by a pair of smaller ones. He looks up to find a worried expression plastered across Lydia's face.

" _Are you okay?"_

All he can do is nod slightly.

She takes him to her bed and has him sit down. She sits next to him, her hands still clasping his as they rest in his lap.

They sit like that for a while, just staring at their interlaced fingers.

" _Stiles?"_ she finally murmurs.

"Mm?"

"How much does it _really_ hurt."

He gives her a look, his eyes sad and hollow, and she understands. But she wants to hear him say it, needs to hear him say it, and she doesn't know why.

She returns his look with one that says she can't comprehend what he's trying to communicate to her.

 _"So bad."_ his voice is a broken whisper and Lydia feels the knife twist in her gut once more.

 _"So bad"_ he repeats. "He left me with _so_ much pain. There was so much hurt and chaos, and then he took _all_ of the pain from Scott. Every ounce that Scott had been carrying around from numerous people he tried to help. I know that it doesn't make sense because if Scott can deal with, I should be able to as well… But it's not just the pain from Scott, it's the pain that the nogitsune feed off from people for hundreds of years… and it's all inside me. I can barely even think straight."

There's a _huge_ lump in Lydia's throat, possibly a scream, but she swallows it down and does her best. She cups his cheeks with her hands and watches as he leans into her touch.

"Stiles." she begins. "Stiles, you are the strongest person I have _ever_ met. You're so much stronger than any of these supernatural beings, _okay?_ I know that you feel like a liability more than a help, that's why you're always apologizing, but, my god, Stiles… half of these insane plans would never work without you. _You're the one who always figures it out."_

A tear finally falls down her cheek, and Stiles brushes it away with his thumb.

" _Lydia…"_

He leans toward her, and holy shit, she thinks he's going to kiss her.

" _Yeah?"_

She holds her breath.

"I'm _so_ tired."

Lydia let's her breath go, not really sure if she's disappointed or relieved. He falls onto her shoulder and she snakes her hand around the side of him, resting it on his cheek and begins to stroke his soft skin.

" _I know._ " she whispers. "Let's go to sleep, Stiles."

"What about the milk?"

A soft smile plays on her lips.

"I can reheat it tomorrow, _okay?"_

" _Okay."_

She stands up and helps him move over to the left side of the bed. Lydia moves the covers over him and Stiles turns on his side, facing her.

" _Where are you going to sleep?"_ he inquires.

She smiles and her hand finds his cheek again. He closes his eyes.

" _Right next you."_

She climbs into her bed, pulling the covers over herself as well.

They're so close to each other, their noses practically touch. Lydia can _feel_ his warm breath on her face.

It relaxes her that his breathing is at a steady pace.

Stiles opens his eyes, slightly, wanting to burn this moment into his memory forever. The medicine Lydia gave him was working fast.

" _Goodnight, Lydia."_

" _Goodnight, Stiles."_ she whispers back.

Lydia flips to the other side, so that her back is facing stiles. She feels his hand snake it's way acorss her hip and settle on her stomach. She smiles, loving that, for once, Stiles is taking what he want. Maybe Stiles isn't _completely_ selfless, and that makes her glad. He deserves to be happy, too.

Tomorrow, Lydia will devise a plan to _fix_ her Stiles.

Tonight, she's going to enjoy this moment. She's going to enjoy his warmth, enjoy his arm around her, enjoy everything that is Stiles Stilinski.

xxxxxxxxxxxx

This time, when Stiles wakes up, Lydia is still there, in his arms.

He realizes that this is the first time since he _died_ , that he wasn't plagued with nightmares or didn't wake up screaming. He looks at the sleeping girl beside him, their legs tangled up together, and he notices that this is _also_ the first time he's ever seen Lydia look so... peaceful.

He reaches for his phone, out of habit, and picks up Lydia's. The first thing he sees is the _213_ texts from their friends asking if she knows where he is, because they _had_ forgotten to text his dad last night, and then why she wasn't answering.

The second thing he observes is the time. _11:13_. It takes him a moment to register what it means, his brain still foggy with sleep, but his eyes go wide.

" _Lydia! Wake up! We're missing school! We have that economics test today! Oh, shit, coach is gonna be so pissed at us."_

And he was.

 **AN:**

 _Hey guys! I started teen wolf a while ago and I've been in love with stydia ever since. So I had this idea floating around in my head of what it would be like if lydia woke up to stiles screaming and went to find him but, then I finished season 3 and, I just felt like post nogitsune stydia would be adorable for this fic. Originally it was just gonna be Stiles having a nightmare/sleepwalking, because I wanted Lydia to take him back to her house so they could fall asleep together, but since it's post nogitsune I added some side effect Stiles might be having from the drama. Anyway, I don't really know why I'm telling you guys this, probably just because I hope you guys understand where this fic came from. Also, this is basically what would've happened between the s3 and s4 hiatus, so the whole going to Mexico thing hasn't happened yet._


End file.
